Leopard Skin (2022) s01e07 Episode Script

I have such a strange sensation.
Batty is dead.
I'm glad.
I don't want you talking
about her anymore
or else I'll have to kill you too.
I'm sorry.
Don't be. ALBA: But I truly am.
I don't like to see you suffer.
I've been framed.
I guess you'll be staying here longer.
Eventually, you'll return to your
senses and return to me.
What is it about this place
that makes people act so crazy?
The coast is
where the bandits, the pirates,
and the dancers live.
The sensible people
all move to the interior.
I never did see the two of you
lasting very long together.
Not even to the bottom of the quicksand?
No, no! Wait, wait, wait! Stop, stop!
Stop! You're gonna break his ribs!
That's the general idea.
Jesus Christ, Max!
Don't touch me, you fuckin' whore!
Prince Charming in the flesh.
I was trying to spare you.
None of it is true.
What the fuck is going on?
We're being held hostage.
By Fausto?
By diamond thieves.
Did you not hear about the robbery?
- Yeah. The 12 million?
- Uh-huh.
That was your butler?
He's not my butler.
Well, how'd you get mixed up with him?
No one's mixed up with anyone, Max.
- Thieves broke in.
- Ow!
Why would they pick this place
out of the blue?
Maybe you can ask them.
Since we're gonna be working together,
let's get something clear.
I have a policy about
not working with people
I don't know, but you two
come highly recommended.
Listen, Malone.
Let me make it real easy
Let me finish.
I don't care that you're a woman,
I don't go for cute shit.
I don't, either.
That makes three.
So I'm not here to waste time
flirting or holding your hand
or being a gentleman.
The way this works, and it barely works,
it's because I have a way in,
a way at, and a way out.
Sir, permission to speak?
See?
That's what I mean about cute shit.
How's that cute? Nothing cute about it.
I'm a soldier.
I've never been called cute before.
Deal me out.
That was quick. Why?
Because you two are already flirting.
That's not flirting.
Okay, can we just go back
to three minutes ago?
So I understand you're a little,
I mean, not threatened
but taken aback by the fact
that unlike your regular
hood hottie, Clover
seems totally clueless
about her fineness
and that I am, in the words
of my Army Lieutenant,
clearly a terrorist's wet dream,
but it doesn't mean we can't
drive or shoot as well
as any fat asshole with
bad breath and thinning hair.
No more jokes until after the score.
Fine with me.
Clover?
I'm not a complainer. Historically.
I'm the platonic ideal of a good sport.
But what I don't care much for
is being the mediator.
When you're stuck behind the wheel
more than half the time,
you get hotshots
who are hell-bent on
proving to one another
who's got the biggest dick
and the fastest mouth.
Most of the time,
it's done for the benefit
of the neutral third party
who's stuck in the front seat
like an asshole
minding her own business.
This gets exhausting real quick,
so I'm politely asking you both
to pick a lane.
Fuck or don't fuck.
But please stop trying
to out alpha one another
because it's giving me a headache.
I don't want to be reminding you
of this for an entire week.
None of it impresses me.
Are we clear?
Did you just say platonic ideal?
I may be a hood hottie,
but you're not the only natural
discussant at the table.
Yes, it is a word.
Look it up.
Judge, Malone again.
This is the number your man should call
when he gets to the address.
If he doesn't call first, I fire first.
Ask questions after.
Can I talk to you a minute?
I know what you're gonna say.
I doubt it.
I lost my temper
with the pompous little shit,
but you didn't hear him out there.
Not what I was gonna say.
Not in those words maybe,
but I was out of line.
I'm a long way from happy about it.
Now what I was gonna say.
Well, what were you gonna say?
I was gonna say your trust problem
is getting in the way
of us moving forward,
and it's jeopardizing the entire job.
Okay, I'll play along. How do we fix it?
Ten-minute timeout. You and I.
When you say timeout?
Unless you're wired to only go for guys.
No, but time is a little inconvenient.
What's ten minutes
to our cost-time equation?
Maybe not even ten.
You must've had
the happiest childhood on Earth
to be this confident about everything.
If your mood isn't
greatly improved in ten minutes,
then I'm not half the woman
I think I am.
The lion lies down with the lamb.
The fun part is which is which.
How'd you like to start?
Depends, what do you like to do first?
Kiss a little to get in the mood.
What do you usually do?
I like taking turns,
getting my partner ready.
We could do that.
Who goes first?
You have a coin?
Rock, paper, scissors?
Best of three.
So now what?
I choose what I want,
and you have eight minutes
to knock my socks off.
Fair is fair. Lie back.
That's not what I want.
What I want is for you
to get rid of that knife.
Mm. You saw that.
I'm watchful like that.
It was only a precaution.
Mm.
You're what's called
a belt-and-suspenders man.
A what?
You're the antithesis of a gambler,
you refuse to get caught
with your pants down.
And in that way, we're alike.
But you're a killer,
so if you're gonna kill me,
you gotta do it with your bare hands.
It's a lot more effort.
I suppose.
You might get an elbow to the face.
And spitting and biting and scratching.
You think I'm a scratcher?
I think if I gave you
a clear shot of my eyeballs,
you'd scratch until you clawed them out.
Oh! That's how you see me?
I think, given a choice,
you'll try to convince me to kill Clover
and split the take two ways.
I think that turns you on.
Am I wrong?
I'm not wrong.
Hey, how'd you do it?
Uh, do what?
Cut the bull.
We're not making it out of this alive.
You don't know that.
Well, I do. And if you don't know that,
you haven't been paying attention.
The cartel will handle this
the way the cartel handles everything.
So humor me. How'd you kill him?
I have no idea what you're driving at.
A cuckoo ex-junkie documentarian
and a mannequin model,
suddenly living together
in their late rich husband's estate.
Wait, you think I was born yesterday?
I think you've been
in television too long.
I told you it's
a money-laundering scheme.
Thank you, my ever-loyal sidekick.
It's no wonder your mother said
you'd never amount to much.
Let's leave her out of this.
Hey, did Lolita tell you
why her mother hasn't spoken
to her in ten years?
What's it matter if we're not
making it out alive?
What about you, Inocencia?
Are you part of this too, hmm?
Is she in on it?
I don't know what you're talking about.
I read the autopsy, sweetheart.
Officially, Archie died
of cardiac arrest,
but I know you two killed him.
Let's see, money is the motive,
drowning is the means.
All that's missing is the how.
Now, my guess is
that you two poisoned him
in some clever way that the
half-assed coroner's office
is too incompetent to figure out,
all of which would have
inevitably bubbled up
in the documentary after pitting you two
against each other,
likely around hour number
Uh four, but c'est lafucking vie.
So how'd you do it?
We're not playing this game.
Archie was my friend.
And I despise conniving little shits
who think they can outsmart me.
And especially if they have vaginas.
Coming up next
on our tour of female tragedy,
"Soul-sucking Pathological
Liars with Feelings."
How'd you end up with this loser?
Chalk it up to his irresistibly
charming personality.
Why is it the more
disposable a woman is,
the more she plays the woman card.
Do you really think I'm disposable?
Why do you care
what this slimeball thinks?
Because I believe I am endowed
with the same capacity for
thought and self-reflection
as anyone, but maybe not you.
Because you have
a general pity for mankind.
I'm absolutely fine
with that attitude, angel.
You and you. Come with me.
I'm only gonna ask you this once.
How soon can you get this boat here?
It's not my boat.
I'm only going to ask you this once.
How soon can you get this boat here?
Twenty minutes.
If in 21 minutes this boat is not here,
I will blow your balls off.
Any questions?
Roberto.
I'm sorry.
He was always so obnoxious
whenever he came into the club.
I was at a low point.
I'd just gotten fired
for biting my boss's finger
after he pointed it too close
to my face yelling at me.
I stormed outside
and Max was getting in his car.
I didn't even really want to fuck him.
Well, I kind of wanted to fuck him
but I also wanted to die.
So it's been downhill from there.
What happened with your mother?
Misunderstanding.
I may have slept with her husband.
You're not sure?
Not entirely.
Were you sleepwalking?
I was really high.
When I was a kid, I used
to catch bugs and lizards.
And when I would set them free,
they would sort of stand there
for a minute, anesthetized,
not knowing what to do.
That's pretty much how I felt
from 15 to 20.
I was fried, I was anxious,
and I had no idea where I was going,
but I wasn't ready to grow up.
All around me, my friends
were banging on about no GMOs,
and all organic, and free-range,
while still blowing rows of cocaine
off the back of toilet seats.
There was some cognitive
dissonance there
I had a tricky time reconciling.
I didn't really know anyone
who wasn't on drugs.
But I admit it, it was all my fault.
He was a lawyer with a side business
and, uh, he paid me to act as a mule,
packing heroin in johnnies
and moving them across the country.
Wasn't one of his better ideas.
I knew he found me wildly attractive
and I kept flirting with him.
Broke my mom's heart
when she walked in on us.
I was 17.
You were just a child.
I don't know about you
but I was a cruel child.
You had to swallow them, the rubbers?
No. There are other places to hide them.
Oh, that's perfect.
Really perfect. Alright, thanks.
To whom it may concern,
if you're reading this,
you already didn't do as told.
You were supposed to call first
or get shot.
That means you're all
out of mistakes for today.
What you're going to do now
is walk outside,
past the pool, and stand
between the two lines
with the money you brought.
Dial the number Ray told you to call.
We will give you instructions
for the handoff.
You do exactly what we tell you,
and everyone walks out alive.
Does everyone have a demonic side?
What would happen if
we were not beholden
to the moral limits
of the society we live in?
What if we all followed
our most intimate obsessions
on the regular?
Max Hammond here, folks.
Now, my initial idea
to launch this network
was to show you exactly how these
spider women got away with murder.
Pit them against one another
and watch their pyramid of cards tumble
in a flurry of blatant lies.
But that's chicken feed
against our new backdrop:
a world-class diamond heist
with yours truly caught in the middle.
What you will witness
is television history.
My name is Max Hammond,
and I flirt with danger.
Here I am, Holy One.
Alone and abandoned. I am a murderess.
Filled with selfish thoughts.
Am I even human?
I don't feel much.
I am worthless, I am nothing,
I don't deserve to live.
I have no capacity
for thinking of others.
Well, except for Alba, but that is
only proof of my lack of conscience.
Of my weakness.
Here I am, about to get killed
over stupid diamonds,
and all I can think of
is this infuriating creature next to me.
She reconfigured all of my atoms
and now she's acting aloof.
Could true love last
only one night and day?
I finally get why men
find women confusing.
Why is my clit throbbing?
There's like a little antenna down there
that loves really loud thumping bass.
I don't know when exactly
I first noticed
but it's definitely a thing with me.
But I'm not in a dance club right now,
so what the fuck gives?
We still have signal?
It's like a damn cell phone
ad, the signal's so strong.
Clover.
Clover, get us out of here now.
Clover! Start the engine!
It's gonna be all right.
I'm gonna cover you.
Fuck. Fuck.
Oh, my God!